“Would you really do that for me?” Maria asked. That was the last thing that she expected.
“He would do nothing but pace,” Violet said, which was exactly what Maria had thought. “None of which would help.”
“He would, wouldn’t he?” A startled laugh escaped Maria.
“He would,” Violet said. “You will tell him when you wish, or I will, if we must. But let this be between the two of us for now.”
“The three of us,” Stephen corrected, smirking.
“I am sorry,” Maria said, because there was no better phrase.
“You may be sorry in the morning,” Violet said, gathering herself. “Tonight, be safe.”
She moved toward the door, then stopped, and unexpectedly reached out to touch Maria’s cheek. “You are not a burden,” she said again. “You are my family.”
The words made something inside Maria crumple.
“I will try to be worth it,” she whispered.
“You are already worth it,” Violet said, “Now, let us leave here. Do not open any more doors you have not knocked upon.”
“Yes,” Maria murmured. “I promise.”
Violet looked to Stephen last.
“Your week begins when the clock strikes twelve tonight, not before.”
“Midnight,” he agreed.
“If you ruin her between now and then,” Violet added, “I will convince every woman in London to ruin you in turn.”
“That seems just.”
Violet nodded and slipped out, closing the door gently.
The very moment she was gone, Maria turned to follow, only to stop short when Stephen’s hand closed around her wrist.
“One last thing,” he said.
Maria looked down at his hand, and then up at his face. She could not read it. Men’s expressions were largely a mystery to her; she knew only that he wore a look of decision.
“Yes?” she managed.
“If I am to conjure you a husband in a week,” he said, “you will not sabotage me by being afraid of your own shadow. We begin lessons tomorrow.”
“Lessons?”
“In being seen without apologizing for it,” he said. “In saying three sentences about anything at all without checking the room to see if it approves.”
“You make me sound ridiculous,” Heat rushed to her cheeks. “It is not as though you know me.”
“I know enough,” he said with a certainty that terrified her. “You make yourself small.”
“I cannot help how rooms feel,” she said, stung again. “They get large very suddenly.”
“Then we will make you large enough for them.” His mouth curved in something like a smirk again. “You are not a little thing, Miss Havenford. It is a waste to behave as if you are.”
She did not know what to do with that comment.